The next morning, Christian was awakened by the sound of laughter and footsteps from downstairs. He blinked once, trying to get his eyes to focus properly, before glancing down at the still sleeping Charlotte. He carefully removed his arm gently out from under her, and struggled to sit up. As he rubbed his hands over his face, his eyes fixed on the wall clock, which read 9:45. With a gasp, he realized that today was indeed sailing day, and in just a little over two hours, the Titanic would be leaving the docks. They had no time to lose.
Nearly frantic, he shook Charlotte, who murmured in protest and attempted to turn around and burrow back underneath her blankets. Smiling softly, Christian pulled the quilt down and bent over to kiss her. "All right, princess. It’s time to get up, baby."
"No," she whined, yawning. "I don’t want to."
Christian chuckled, remembering countless times he’d had to literally lift Satine out of bed and carry her out the door, for she’d been too stubborn to wake up on her own. "I know you don’t want to, but today’s your favorite day, remember?" He watched as she suddenly sat up, her mouth hanging open.
"Oh!" She quickly hopped down from the bed, going over to hug her father, who was opening the trunk to pull out a proper travel dress for her. He chose a pink one with red trim and a red waist sash. He set it down on the unmade bed and aided her out of her nightgown and into the dress. Once her sash was tied, he began the rather obnoxious task of brushing the knots out of her hair, tying them into two pigtails with red ribbons. She sat patiently, humming to herself and tapping her bare toes against the bed. After slipping on her shoes, he began the process of dressing himself, gazing out the window as he did so.
Charlotte began twirling around the room, absentmindedly kicking up her legs in the traditional can-can form, leaping over to help him make the bed before they finished packing the rest of their belongings. When all was ready, Christian lifted the heaviest of the luggage, allowing Charlotte to carry the small duffle bag. They made their way down the narrow, dark staircase and to the front desk, where they signed out with the hotel’s owner.
After leaving the building, he felt a pang of sadness. He’d lived in England for most of his life, only having gone to Paris in 1899. As they wandered through the slowly crowding streets, they caught sight of an inviting pub, where they decided to stop for breakfast before boarding. Christian checked his pocket to ensure that the tickets were safe, and then removed his black bowler hat as Charlotte eagerly pushed open the door.
Smoke rose from the patrons already inside, and he noticed a group of men seated by the window. They seemed to be in the midst of playing cards, and the Italian fellow, whose face Christian could actually see, looked slightly worried about something. Charlotte watched the card players with interest, and her rather impulsive nature caused her to go over and investigate. Christian gasped, attempting to call her back, but a waiter approached, asking if he would like a table. "Y-yes, thank you. Charlotte?" he called, as she leaned forward, startling the blonde man beside the Italian, who merely smiled and offered a handshake once he relaxed.
"I apologize, sir," Christian announced, blushing furiously, but the stranger did not seem upset by the interruption. Charlotte looked at her father, swallowing nervously as she noticed his disapproving expression.
"Oh, she’s not being any trouble." The stranger turned to Charlotte, who was leaning her chin in her palms. "What’s your name?" She looked at him, blushing even darker than she already was, and lowered her head.
"Charlotte, sir. What’s yours?"
Christian’s mouth twitched a bit with amusement as he fingered his hat. He’d never felt all that comfortable around strangers, though was slowly getting used to it. After all, he’d had to in Paris, when people like unconscious Argentineans fell from the ceiling.
"Jack Dawson. My pleasure." He nodded, and Charlotte noticed the familiar slips of paper sitting in the center of the table, partially covered by a small pile of gold and silver coins.
"Are you going on the Titanic, too?" she asked Jack, who motioned for Christian to join them.
"Thank you." He pulled two chairs up, and watched as Jack’s attention locked on the two men sitting across from him, who were gibbering in a language Christian did not understand. It was then he realized what the men were playing for, and he made a point to himself not to get involved with the game, only to watch. The waiter approached their table, handing Christian and Charlotte each a menu, and then asked what they would like to drink.
"A cup of coffee, please. Would you like a glass of milk?" he added, and Charlotte nodded, not really paying attention.
"So, where are you both from? I don’t believe you’ve told me your name." Jack spoke to Christian, who nodded.
"I’m sorry…Christian…Christian Calvert. And I’m actually from London." He cleared his throat, and motioned towards the tickets. "So…you’re playing for them?" he asked, and Jack nodded, taking a cigarette from a pack in his pocket.
"Yes. You don’t mind if I smoke, do you?" he asked, and Christian shook his head.
"Be my guest."
"Well, those two over there…" He pointed after lighting up and taking a small puff. "…are actually Swedish. They don’t speak English at all, as you can probably tell. The man sitting next to me is my friend, Fabrizio di Rossi."
Christian shook hands with Fabrizio, who tapped his fingers anxiously on the table. "If they don’t speak English, how are you understanding what’s going on?" he asked, confused, once the waiter returned and handed them their drinks. After ordering food for himself and Charlotte, Christian turned back to Jack, who took another card from the pile. "How long have you been sitting here?"
"Over an hour."
"Really?"
"Yeah…these guys are good. Keep wanting to bet more and more, but you know, Fabri and I only have so much…the tickets are it, the last things we are able to use. Winner takes all. Want to join in?"
Christian shook his head. "No, thank you. I’m not much of a card player, though I appreciate the invitation."
Jack put another card down, and Christian just leaned back in his chair to watch. He could see the Titanic through the pub’s window, its four grand smokestacks stretching almost to the heavens. Satine would have adored it, he knew, for she had loved sailing and had always talked to him about wanting to go to the sea one day. He felt Charlotte lean against his shoulder, and wrapped his arm around her, hugging her close. Jack watched them with a small smile on his face before putting another card down after Fabrizio took his bid.
Nearly an hour passed, and the group still sat at their table. Christian found his eyes drooping from the smell of the cigar and cigarette smoke, but at last Jack’s voice broke through his head. "All right. Moment of truth…somebody’s life’s about to change."
By the time Christian looked up at the clock again, he saw they had barely twenty minutes to make it to the docks. The Titanic’s horn gave another blast, and he felt his heart racing. "Charlotte, we have to go now…" he insisted, hoisting her into his arms and picking up his bags. "Mr. Dawson, I do hope to see you on board…I’m sorry, but we must get through the inspection, and I’m almost afraid to see how long of a line there is…"
But Jack wasn’t listening…he was too deeply involved in the game. Christian started to say something else when the ship gave another blast, and he decided to just leave, that the men would figure things out their own way. After paying for their meal, he ran through the front door of the pub and made for the docks. Crowds formed around the ship, and there were people waving and throwing kisses, cheering or whistling.
"Look at how big it is!" Charlotte gasped as she clung to her father’s neck, bouncing like a rag doll. He laughed heartily, kissing her cheek as they made their way towards the inspection queue. He was pleased to see that the line was not as long as he’d imagined, but that was probably because the previous passengers were a bit more attentive to the time. He set Charlotte to the ground, shivering a bit as a gust of bitter cold breeze blew past him. Drawing his overcoat more tightly around his body, he glanced at Charlotte, his teeth chattering.
"Are you warm enough, love?" he asked, and she smiled at him, lifting her face to the sun. She was grinning so widely that he could see the spaces where she’d lost a couple of baby teeth.
"No," she insisted. "I like the cold."
He raised an eyebrow at her, stroking her head. Eventually, they were next in line, and a mother with her newborn baby stood in front of them. Christian took a deep breath when she walked away, pulling Charlotte gently forward to greet the officer. "Good afternoon," the officer told Christian, beginning the checkup by asking a couple of questions. Then he listened to Christian cough once, and after he was satisfied, he nodded. "You are in excellent health, sir. I am quite impressed." He smiled, and then looked at Charlotte, whose wide, blue-gray eyes were staring up at him. "And is this your daughter?"
Christian nodded. "Yes, she is."
"Has she been ill within the past couple of years…anything we might want to know about?"
Christian shook his head. "Only the occasional cold." Suddenly, a thought sprang into his head. Satine had died of the consumption, so the two had been exposed to the disease. However, he figured that if he or Charlotte were infected, the symptoms would already have begun to show up, and they both felt perfectly fit for their status. So, as a result, he decided to keep the thought to himself.
"Good, good. Thank you…welcome aboard." He stepped aside, giving them use of the ramp. Looking up as they walked up the ramp, Christian realized that Charlotte was indeed correct…the Titanic was so big that you could put the entire world in it. He let Charlotte step inside first, and then showed another officer their tickets, which he read over quickly before pointing them in the direction of the steerage stairway.
"Papa, I want to see what it looks like up on deck!" Charlotte exclaimed. "Can we go up? Please?" She was bouncing up and down, and Christian agreed. He knelt down on one knee and took her hands.
"Would you care for a ride, milady?" he asked, and she nodded, giggling as he lifted her onto his shoulders. He gathered their luggage once he got her comfortably situated, and headed up to the top deck. It was a fantastic sight, really, to see so many people gathered in one place. He made his way through the crowd on deck towards the rail.
"Say good-bye," he told Charlotte, feeling a sudden rush of emotion as she waved fervently, shouting in her tiny voice, "Au revoir!" His daughter truly was French at heart, just like her mother, even though she was born in England. As he watched the ropes being cut and the docks drift away slowly, he realized he would be leaving the one place that held his strongest memories of Satine. A single tear rolled down his wind-flushed face, and he sniffed softly, hoping Charlotte hadn’t heard. I will always be with you. Those were Satine’s last words…he clutched the rail with one hand while holding onto Charlotte’s thin legs with the other. Another breeze blew past, ruffling his hair, and he could almost swear he heard Satine whispering in his ear.
Chewing on his lip, he glanced upwards, watching as a few seagulls flew overhead. "All right," he encouraged, bouncing Charlotte a little. "Let us go back inside, ladybug," he encouraged, wanting to enjoy a bit of peace and quiet for a little while. Charlotte, once on the ground again, nearly ran into someone, for she was gazing up at the chandeliers once they got inside.
"Be careful," he warned as they walked down the steps.
"Which room is it?" Charlotte asked, clutching his hand tightly as she noticed the variety of cultures surrounding her.
"G-16," he replied as they rounded a bend. "Let’s see…" He looked closely at the gold numbers on the doors, and finally found the correct one. "Ah…here we are." He put down the trunk and the suitcase before turning the knob and pulling the door open. What met his eyes was quite a surprise. A large man bustled about, putting his clothing and other articles away in a set of dresser drawers while his own little girl sat on the bed, playing with her doll’s hair. For a moment, Christian stood still, glancing at the ticket a bit more closely. G-16…this was the place.
"Hullo," Christian greeted, causing both of them to look up in surprise.
The man suddenly smiled and walked towards Christian, shaking his hand. "Well, hullo there! You must be our two cabin mates. I heard they were puttin’ at least four to a cabin down here. My name is Bert Cartmell, and this little one here is my daughter, Cora."
Charlotte stared at the new girl, appearing to be pleased at the prospect of having a playmate. "You startled me for a minute," Christian admitted, smiling also as he put his and Charlotte’s things down. "But I am Christian Calvert, and this is my daughter, Charlotte."
"Bonjour," Charlotte told Cora with a curtsey. Cora stopped playing with her doll, her dark eyes wide as Charlotte continued to say, "That means good day in French. I can speak French, too…my mommy taught me. She was an actress, you know…"
Christian shook his head, placing a hand on her shoulder. "Charlotte, don’t crowd her, my dear. Come and help me unpack what we can fit into the drawers." He unlocked the old chest, removing his beloved typewriter.
"A writer, are ya?" Bert asked, shutting the last of his own set of drawers. The sound of the ship’s engine was almost relaxing, in Christian’s opinion, as he set the typewriter on the table, gazing through the tiny, circular porthole window.
"Yes," he replied. "Well, not a famous one, really. Or…at least not yet." He was famous in Paris, at least in the Bohemians’ eyes, for being the writer of Spectacular, Spectacular. Still, he couldn’t boast about it too much, as it was only performed once in the Moulin Rouge. So he left his response at that, and just continued to unpack. "So, where are you from…Ireland?" he asked, leaning down towards Charlotte. "Which bed would you like, darling? Your choice of the top or the bottom."
Charlotte thought for a moment, and then pointed up. "I’ll take the top." She immediately climbed the ladder and marked the bed as her own, putting her doll on her pillow. Cora seemed to notice the doll, and immediately her interest in Charlotte peaked.
"May I see your dolly?" she asked, causing Bert to laugh, his large stomach shaking.
"Huh?" Charlotte peered over the edge of the bed. "Oh! Of course…" She picked up the treasure, handed it to her father who was closer, and Christian handed it to Cora.
"Oh, she’s real pretty! What’s her name?" she asked, fingering the soft hair.
"Diamond. My mummy was called the Sparkling Diamond when she was an actress, so that’s why I named my doll that."
Cora chewed on her lower lip, her eyes downcast. "I don’t have a mommy."
Christian stopped folding and glanced over his shoulder, feeling his throat choke up. "Don’t be silly!" Charlotte cocked her head to the side. "Everyone has a mother…I had one, but she died."
Christian and Bert glanced at each other with raised eyebrows. "Really?" Bert asked, and Christian nodded.
"A couple of months ago."
"I’m sorry to hear that."
"Don’t be." Christian put a hand on Charlotte’s shoulder, and nodded towards the door of the cabin. "Would you like to go up on deck for a bit of a walk before lunch? Care to join us?" he added to Bert and Cora, who nodded, eager to get out of the stuffy room.
"Sounds like a plan."
With that, the group of four left the cabin, and after shutting the door behind them, began the exploration of the ship that was to be their home for the next week or so.